


home

by thor_odinson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Darling boy, He deserves so much, M/M, angsty as shit, i love him so much, smol baby sirius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thor_odinson/pseuds/thor_odinson
Summary: Five different years, three different homes in which Sirius Black (tries to) celebrate his birthday.





	home

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted [here](https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12712664/1/Home/) on my fanfiction.net account.

Seven years old. In his room, a glass of water for breakfast. Alone. He can hear laughter from downstairs. Mother, Father, Regulus. Happy. Without him. Peaceful. They'll never yell at Regulus. Regulus is their favourite son. Sometimes their only son. Their best son.

Sirius is nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He's rude, he's ungrateful, and he's disgusting. He doesn't fit the Black family values. He doesn't fit the Black family tradition.

He tried making friends with a halfblood last week. Maybe this is why he's been left alone today. His birthday. Not even a happy birthday. He won't get a present. Not now. Not now that he'd broken the rules. He has to learn his lesson. The cane marks on his back still burn.

He spends his fifth birthday in his bed, under the covers, trying not to cry. It doesn't work.

He hears the key turn in the lock and turns to the door. What's going on? Are they letting him out? The answer is no. 'Regulus, sweetheart, you have five minutes okay?' he hears. 'Mummy will be back for you in five minutes.'

His brother pokes himself into the room. 'Hi, Siri!' he exclaims.

Sirius doesn't stop the smile as he sits up. 'H-hey, Reg.' His voice is cracked.

Regulus runs and clambers onto the bed. 'It's Siri's birthday,' he announces.

'Yeah,' Sirius sighs. 'Siri's birthday.' His face screws up involuntarily.  _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. Not in front of Regulus,_ never  _in front of Regulus._

The younger boy plops himself onto Sirius' lap. He pecks his older brother on the cheek, whispers, 'I love you, Siri,' and wraps his arms around Sirius' neck.

He can't stop himself. A tear falls down his cheek as he holds Regulus close to his chest. 'I love you too, Reg,' he murmurs, the lump in his throat difficult to swallow back.

He ushers Regulus out of the room before laying his head back down on the pillow and weeping the rest of the day away.

xxx

Eleven years old. Away from home. He's in Hogwarts. In Gryffindor. (Not Slytherin; he doesn't think about his family.)  _They_  don't know. James, Remus, Peter; they don't  _know_. They don't know about the pain. That he's never had a good birthday.

But  _Hogwarts_  is home now.  _Home_. Where he doesn't get hit, where he isn't left alone, where… there's three presents waiting for him at the foot of his bed…

He rushes to them, jumping onto the mattress. One from Peter, one from Remus, and the last from James. He looks around the room. It's empty. They'd probably sneaked in at breakfast.

He opens Remus' gift first. It's a copy of  _Quidditch Through The Ages_. He half-smiles. Trust Remus to get him a book.

Peter's is an  _Appleby Arrows_ poster, the players flying across the page on their broomsticks. He sticks it up on the wall over his bed.

James' is a broomstick servicing kit, which confuses him because he doesn't have a broomstick to service yet. He opens the kit to see a note sitting on the black velvet. He opens it to find James' swooping handwriting.

_Yeah. You haven't got a broom. I know. I wanted to give you one but Professor McGonagall said I wasn't allowed yet. But next year. Next year I'll get you your first broom and it'll be fantastic. Happy birthday, mate._

_James_

Sirius' heart swells with friendship, with love, and he finds himself blinking to hold back the tears again.

But these are different tears. They're happy tears. Because for the first time in his life, Sirius Black feels  _cared for._

'You like them, huh?' James says from the door, smiling softly.

Sirius doesn't know what's come over him. He jumps off his bed and throws himself at James.

' _Thank you_ ,' he whispers through his tears (he doesn't try to contain himself anymore; he's so  _happy_.). 'Thank you so much.'

'Mate, I only got you a broom cleaning kit,' says James, placing his arms around Sirius in a hug. 'It was nothing, honestly.'

'No,' mutters Sirius, 'I don't mean that,' and proceeds to tell James  _everything_.

James Potter lends an ear like a brother.

xxx

Fifteen years old. Gryffindor Common Room. The music is so loud he can't think straight.

This is for him. For  _Sirius._ Sirius has never had something done purely for him before. It's an entirely strange concept but he slowly finds himself warming up to the idea that friends are allowed to do nice things for other friends.

He sits on the table, glass in hand. He surveys the room. The Marauders, Lily, and Marlene McKinnon are the only ones still dancing. Everyone else has fallen asleep. Everywhere he looks, the sofas, the  _floor_ , even the tables next to him, there are people sleeping. He's pretty sure some of these people have passed out.

They hadn't permitted anyone below fourth-year into the room. And for good reason too, with the amount of alcohol they've been drinking. Bottles seem to be everywhere there isn't a person.

Someone's hand slides down his arm. 'Siri, come dance…' Remus' voice is very slurred, and Sirius notices the bottle that Remus is trying to hide.

'I'm kinda tired, Re, maybe later?' he tries reasoning.

Remus gives an indignant huff. 'It's  _your_ party, though,' he points out.

Sirius chuckles. 'I know, babe…' he rolls his eyes, taking a glance at the clock. One fifty-three. He knows he's not getting out of this anytime soon.

Yet he does it anyway. 'Okay, Remus. Lead the way.'

The excited yelp Remus gives as he pulls Sirius off the table is enough to make anyone's heart swell.

xxx

Nineteen years old. He sits with Remus in their flat ( _their_ flat) in front of the TV.

'Sirius, what do you want to do for your birthday, love?' Remus asks as he traces circles on Sirius' hip.

'I wanna stay in today, spend it with you. Maybe order food in or something,' says Sirius dismissively. 'I don't really care, I just wanna be with you.'

Remus smiles. 'Alright,' he sighs contentedly, manoeveuring them so Sirius' head rests on his chest. 'Happy birthday, Sirius.'

Sirius feels as if he could burst with happiness. He's got his own home, his own person right here with him and he's the happiest he's ever been.

It's when they're clearing up after they've eaten later that night that Remus asks to turn on the spot to drop something in the bin. When he turns back, Remus is on one knee by the fireplace in the living room, a small box open in his hand.

'Oh!' he gasps. He didn't see this coming  _at all._

'Sirius Black, I have known you for the better part of nine years,' begins Remus softly, 'and I know that you've not had the best start in life, but you have given me an amazing present and the hope for a beautiful future. And so I ask that you accompany me so my beautiful future can become yours too. Sirius… will you marry me?'

Sirius only manages a husky, 'Yes,' before he drops to his knees and crashes his lips to Remus'.

xxx

Twenty-three years old. In Azkaban. He doesn't even remember. It's only been two years and he's  _forgotten._

Everyday is the same. Day after day, all he can think about is the pain. The pain, physical and emotional, inflicted upon him by his parents.

The emotional pain inflicted upon him when James and Lily were murdered.

He can feel his heart break again.

_Harry, his godson, left orphaned in a crib._

_James, his best friend, left dead by the stairs._

_Lily, the girl he protected, left defeated in broad daylight._

_Remus, his loving fiancé, left all alone in their home._

_Peter, the friend they trusted, a coward beyond redemption._

There is a war, a raging war in his mind. The thoughts are winning. The dark, dreary thoughts are _winning_ and he can't get them to go away.  _They won't go away_.

He needs to scream. He needs to let out all of his frustration, all of his anger, all of his pain.

But. He.  _Can't_.

It's stuck. Stuck, stuck, stuck,  _stuck_ , and he can't get rid of it.

The thoughts are destroying him. Rotting his mind. And… he lets them.

He hasn't got the heart to stop them.

He's never had the heart to stop the thoughts telling him he needs to die.

So, when Sirius Black turns twenty-three, on November third, nineteen eighty-two, he makes the decision to stop fighting and lets the dementors consume him.


End file.
